


Taking Lance

by Savy_Hare



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Lance as a Marine, M/M, So is Shiro, Taking Chance AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 19:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16270811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savy_Hare/pseuds/Savy_Hare
Summary: When Captain Takashi Shirogane learns that a Marine from his old battalion is lacking in a proper escort, Shiro volunteers to take the Marine home. He learns a lot about and from the young Marine, Lance Corporal Lance McClain. He might even be falling in love. There's just one problem.He's escorting Lance's casket.Or the Taking Chance AU that nobody asked for.





	1. Taking Lance

Shiro is a little too high ranking for this. He knows that. It should be someone from the Marine’s squadron. Someone who really does know him. But there’s no one else who volunteered, something about this guy.... After all, Shiro was a part of the same battalion once upon a time. Shiro rubs his shoulder where his prosthetic connects, absentmindedly. 

His name was Lance McClain. 5 years in the Marines, he was going to finish his contract this year. This month, in fact. Shiro swallows at that. He wonders what was going through this Lance character’s mind. Did he realize, in that split second? Did he know what his decision would cost him? When an IED detonates, Shiro knows that there isn’t more than a fraction of a second to decide. You only get a second. A breath, a blink, maybe less. Shiro has his own memories, after all. 

His arm throbs with a phantom pain, as it sometimes does when Shiro remembers his own close call. 

The morgue is cold and it seems to just get colder the longer Shiro is here. 

The mortician had done a marvelous job. There is no trace of blood anywhere. The dress blues are immaculate. No grit or shrapnel to be found. Hair neat and trimmed. The kid’s nails are manicured. 

Shiro swallows and leaves before he can notice anything else. Like the laugh lines that had already formed around his eyes, despite his young age. Or how perfectly groomed his eyelashes were. Or the mole on his neck. Right above the horrific, gaping gash. 

It would be a closed casket funeral. And even knowing that, the preparations were still perfect. Shiro could feel the respect and honor and empathy radiating in every perfect stitch, every perfectly groomed detail. 

That was a hero back there. A kid who saved dozens of lives in a single second. Whose instincts were so selfless that he hadn’t even hesitated. He must have known the consequences. That he would be saying goodbye, that he wouldn’t even get a goodbye. And yet.... And yet the kid still acted. He still jumped. Knowing he’d never see his family or his friends again, he still made that sacrifice. The kid....

Shiro halts in his retreat. No. Not a kid. A man. A man whose heart was so pure that laugh lines were visible around his eyes even from the grave. 

Shiro needs a drink. Tomorrow morning he would start the journey to Arizona, to deliver Lance home. Tonight, though? Tonight Shiro needs a drink. 

——-

The flight was long. He had needed a personal frisking before he was allowed through airport security. The TSA agent had told him he needed to take off his jacket. He couldn’t, not while on duty. Not while he had such a responsibility. He had said so. He had been worried he’d have to argue the point further, but a senior TSA agent whispered something in this person’s ear, and Shiro was shown to a private square where he was gently frisked by the other agent. He was dismissed with a respectful nod. He had grabbed his carry on and was turning to walk away when the younger TSA agent had grabbed his shoulder. He had tensed. But the agent had merely apologized profusely and wished him luck. 

The sun is still bright out as he walks outside. He has to escort the casket onto the plane personally. He’s on the tarmac now. The personnel outside had all stopped the moment they saw the coffin, with the flag, and someone in uniform. A telltale sign. Hats are lowered, hands placed over hearts. Some were even beginning to cry. Shiro can’t help but be one of them, though he tries to hide it. He refuses to disrespect this Marine with unprofessionalism. 

He is led onto the plane with little fanfare afterward. Which is right. Lance deserves all of that. Shiro doesn’t. He takes his seat in first class. He is sitting next to a shockingly young woman. Shocking, because her hair is starch white. Maybe it was dyed that way. Maybe not. Shiro’s own white fringe was natural. At least, it grew that way after the explosion. The captain over the loudspeaker greets everyone and thanks them for joining him on this flight. Announcements are made to turn all cellphones to airplane mode. Shiro’s is already on, but he watches the woman next to him flick off a quick text before turning airplane mode on herself. 

“Gotta go! The plane is about to take off! Wish me luck tho, I get to sit next to this super hot soldier the whole way!”

He waits a few minutes while the plane takes off, but then he turns and says, “Marine, actually. Soldiers are Army.”

The woman’s eyes look confused for a split second, then a blush colors her cheeks, barely noticeable through her dark skin, as the mortification sets in. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry, how embarrassing. I hope I didn’t offend you!” Her apology is sincere, lilting with a hint of an accent. 

Shiro smiles softly. “It’s okay. Not offended at all. It’s sometimes hard to tell the difference if you don’t know.”

She introduces herself as Allura, and starts up a conversation with him about his service. Her dad had been a part of a foreign military and died in combat when she was very young. Shiro talks a little about his service, but lets her do most of the talking. When their conversation runs silent, he hears snippets of other people’s lives around him. The girl who comes up to use the restroom is here with her college choir for a competition. There are parents who are bringing their niece home to live with them. Somewhere is a crying child’s first flight. The flight attendant is nearing 24 hours without sleep. Someone is missing their new puppy. 

It’s kind of nice, in a way, to know that others are living semi-normal lives. That these people are the reason that men like Lance don’t die in vain. 

The plane is nearing the airport in Arizona when the announcement crackles through the sound system. 

“Good evening everyone. This is your captain speaking. We are approaching our destination in Tucson, Arizona. It’s a clear night with a high of 80°. Now, I would like to ask all of you a favor when we land. We have with us two very special guests this evening.” The loudspeaker crackles as a pause rings out. Shiro swallows, dreading what was coming next. 

“In first class, we have the honor to carry Captain Takashi Shirogane, a Marine who is escorting his fallen comrade to his final resting place. Lance Corporal Lance McClain gave his life for our country. I would ask that when we land, you all remain seated until Captain Shirogane has properly escorted Lance Corporal McClain off of this flight. Thank you for your patience. And thank you to all the men and women who fight and have fought for our country.”

Crackle. Static. Silence. 

The plane begins its descent in utter silence. Not even the child in the back is crying anymore. Allura has her hand over her mouth, tears in her eyes. Shiro just looks straight ahead, unable to meet anyone’s gaze. How had he thought he could do this? This silence is heartbreaking. His brief meander into these normal lives is at an end. 

Allura gently reaches out to grip his hand. She squeezes once, then lets go. 

Very softly behind him, he hears a few people start to sing. 

“Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound. That saved a wretch like me....”

It’s the choir girl and her peers. At first, it’s just them singing in a beautiful harmony together. Then, the rest of the plane slowly picks it up. 

The plane lands with the passengers beginning the first verse again for the finale. An attendant comes to Shiro. He stands and turns around to view everyone else on the plane. Everyone is still seated, still singing. 

Shiro salutes them all, then turns and leaves. As he walks out, he hears the last notes.

“I once was lost, but now I am found. ‘‘Twas blind, but now I see.”

—-

The hearse is waiting for him at an airport bay. Shiro stands, saluting while Lance is carried into the back. Shiro decides to sleep for a few hours before driving. 

He dreams of a man with twinkling blue eyes and a luminous grin. 

When he wakes, it’s to a dull pain in his chest. 

“Okay Lance. It’s just you and me now.” Shiro rests his hand, the prosthetic, on the back window of the hearse. “You’re almost home. And then you can Rest In Peace. I’ll return you to your family soon. I pro-promise.” He chokes up on the last word. But he stands straight and walks to the driver’s seat. It’s not a long drive now. 

His drive takes him through mountains. He keeps the hazards on and the speed steady. One car takes the lane to his right to pass him. As the driver nears his vehicle however, the driver slows and then simply follows him, turning his headlights on. This happens twice more before he realizes what’s happening. 

The drivers must be able to see the American flag on the casket in the back. Suddenly, Shiro’s vision begins to blur and he quickly blinks before the tears can affect his sight. 

“You see this, buddy?” he whispers to his silent passenger, “All these people? They recognize your bravery. They know you’re a hero. You deserve all of this.”

Only one car is behind him when he pulls off to the rest stop. Lance’s hometown is only a few exits away, and Shiro wants to make sure he’s still presentable when he returns Lance to his family. He gets out of the hearse, but doesn’t leave. He can’t leave Lance unattended. He does subtly stretch his back, run his hands over his slightly creased uniform to straighten it out, and checks to make sure Lance is still secure. 

“Died in combat?” a voice asks from his left. Shiro turns and sees a young girl standing next to a dusty Subaru parked three spaces away. Her sandy hair is short and sticks up around her head. Her large glasses give off a glare that makes it hard for Shiro to see her face clearly. 

“Ahmmm. Sorry. It’s just,” she swallows thickly, “I lost my dad and brother not too long ago. Missing in combat. Army. So I guess I know the drill.” She kicks some of the gravel next to her foot. 

“You were the car behind me in the mountains?” Shiro asks, although he knows the answer. The girl just nods. Her arms are folded over her chest, and she’s gripping something so hard her knuckles are white.

“My mom was driving. She, uh, she noticed the flag. She said. Well, she said that this was someone who died for us, the least we could do is give them an honored procession. That’s what your father would have done.” Her face turns at that, and Shiro saw a tear glint in the morning light before it is wiped away. Someone approaches the Subaru from the bathrooms, and Shiro realizes this must be her mom. 

“Katie, I grabbed some chips from the--oh.” The woman’s voice cuts off when she notices Shiro. She stops a few feet away from her car. Her jaw clenches, but she walks over to Shiro with her hand extended. Shiro takes it and shakes it. She holds on, a little too tightly. 

“Thank you for your service, and I’m so sorry for your loss. How long did you know this person?” Her voice is filled with sympathy and sorrow. Even if the girl...Katie, her mom had called her. Even if Katie hadn’t said they had lost someone, he would have been able to tell from this woman’s eyes alone; loss seems to leave a certain mark in person’s eyes. It’s hard to miss it after you’ve see it enough. Her question catches him off guard, though. Of course, usually the escort knows the fallen. Usually a close friend. But no one else had volunteered. So Shiro had. 

“Well, I...” he starts to say he didn’t know him, but changes his mind. “Well ma’am, not as long as I wish. Not long enough at all.” 

She nods slowly, understanding. She lets go of his hand and walks back to her car. She says something else to him before getting in, but it’s lost to Shiro. He’s caught up in his thoughts. Wishing he really DID get to know Lance before...before the end. 

He’s snapped out of it when he sees Katie standing just in front of him. 

“Here.” she says, face turned away. She’s holding out something small that dangles from a chain. It’s a delicate, metallic lion. “It was my brother’s. We never got a body back. If the family doesn’t mind, could you lay this to rest with your fallen comrade?” Her voice quivers on the last few words and she reaches her other hand up to wipe her eyes. 

Shiro is reaching out before he even knows what he’s doing. He has his hand, the left one, resting on her shoulder in a comforting gesture. The request might seem odd, but he understands. This family, Katie, is desperate for some closure. Even if her father and brother had been presumed dead, it was hard to let go without something to lay to rest. Shiro had buried his fair share of dog tags for the same reason.

“It would be my honor. If you don’t mind, can I ask the name of your father and brother?”

“Matthew Holt was my brother. Samuel Holt was my father.” She shakes the hand from her shoulder and drops the necklace into it. “If you don’t mind, can I ask the same question?” She nods towards the back of the black, sleek hearse. 

He probably shouldn’t tell her. But he does. After all, Lance deserves to be remembered. 

“Lance Corporal Lance McClain. Died protecting his squadron from an IED. Jumped before anyone else had the chance to react. He saved a lot of lives.” Shiro hadn’t meant to say all of that. But he doesn’t regret it. 

“A hero. I wish I could have known him.”

Me too. “I wish I could have known your father and brother.” 

She offers him a small smile, then walks back to the car where her mother is waiting. Shiro watches them drive off before getting back in the car. 

“You know what, Lance?” he turns his head and says towards the back of the car, “I think is some small way, you helped that family find some closure. I wonder, were you like that when you were alive too?” 

—-

Shiro meets Lance’s sister first. Veronica. Shiro doesn’t comment on the bags under her eyes, bags that he suspects have been there for weeks. She says the rest of her family is on their way, some trouble with the younger nieces and nephews. Shiro also doesn’t comment on how weak and shaky her voice sounds. The casket is in the funeral home now. Still closed. The flag draped honorably over the glistening cherry wood. His job is done, but he can’t bring himself to leave, not just yet.

Her hand touches the flag lightly, and then her knees give out. She crumples to the floor, heaving sobs wracking her slight frame. Shiro has the urge to put his hand on her shoulder, offer her comfort of some sort, but he doesn’t. 

The rest of the family comes in then. Of course Lance has a huge family. 

Had. 

A lump forms in his throat. 

The family must already know, but Shiro tells them anyway. Tells them how Lance died. He commends Lance’s bravery, his sacrifice. He expresses his deep sorrow at their loss. 

And the words keep pouring from his mouth; Shiro is telling him of his journey, like he needed to give them addition closure and comfort, and words were the only thing he had to give. He told them of the care that the mortuary staff had given to him. The respectful TSA agents. The personnel on the tarmac. The passengers and their song. The Holt family. And finally...finally of himself. 

“I only regret not knowing him in life.” His hand clenches around the necklace. He takes a knee next to Veronica and looks into her tear-streaked. “Can I ask a favor?” He continues when she nods. “This is from the Holt family I told you about. They lost a brother and a father. Matthew and Samuel Holt. Do you mind if it lays to rest with Lance?”

And so the necklace is lain inside the coffin, under Lance’s hands, still folded over his chest. The family had invited Shiro to the funeral procession, but Shiro declines. For some reason, he doesn’t feel worthy. He’s already trespassed far too long on this family’s grief. 

So long, in fact, that he feels like he’s taking his own personal share of it with him. The hearse is to be left at the funeral home. Instead, Shiro gets a taxi to a rental car place in town. He’s spending a night in a hotel. He has the long drive back to the airport tomorrow, then he’s taking the first morning flight back to DC. Back to his old life. 

He hops into the driver’s seat and pulls out onto the street to the hotel. His head turns a fraction toward the back of the car. “I guess that’s it, budd...” He stops and lets his voice trail off. The lump in his throat is back. 

He doesn’t finish the sentence. 

—

A week passes. Shiro’s life returns to normal. A semblance of it, at least. He can’t forget, though. Allura’s stricken face, hand over her mouth. The haunting sound of Amazing Grace as he left the flight. The headlights behind him for his trip through the mountains. Katie Holt and her solemn request. Veronica, on her knees, sobbing into the side of Lance’s casket. 

He doesn’t know if he wants to forget or not. A memory, not really his, of laughing blue eyes, has him hurrying from his car to his house. A failed attempt to outrun his own thoughts.

He grabs the mail from the mailbox and then heads inside. He thumbs through it before a hand-addressed letter catches his eye. 

The return address is from Veronica McClain. He opens it. Inside is an obituary cut out, and a funeral program. Shiro skims through it. It tells about how Lance lived. How he had always wanted to save lives. He had joined the Marines in the hopes to do just that. He was going to go to nursing school after. 

Shiro has to stop himself from crumpling the paper. His hands are shaking. He reaches into the envelope and pulls out the last piece of paper. It’s a handwritten letter. 

 

_Captain Shirogane,_

__

__

_I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for returning my brother to us. To me._

__

__

_I wanted you to know that if my brother could have had any choice, this was the way he would have wanted to die. Maybe not so soon, but definitely in the place of the people he cared about. He was always like that. Rushing into danger to help someone else. He wanted to be an E.R. nurse. He wanted to save lives. And he did. He really did._

__

__

_I hadn’t realized who you were at first. Which is why I’m writing. Captain Takashi Shirogane, who commanded the ATLAS mission. Who saved his entire battalion. Whose leadership and bravery brought every man and woman on that mission home. Who risked his life for people he never knew. My brother looked up to you. He practically worshipped you. You were the reason he joined the Marines. You were his hero. He wanted to be a hero like you._

__

__

_And I guess, in the end, he was._

__

__

_I wish you could have known him._

__

__

_He would have been glad it was you who saw him home. You led him to his dream, Captain. And then you led him home._

__

__

_Thank you. Now and always._

__

__

_-Veronica._


	2. Epilogue

It’s been a year.  


Shiro’s life fell back into order quickly, now with the addition of a ghost-memory of bright blue eyes, framed by life lines and the echo of laughter. And the hollow ache in his chest when he thought of Lance. But that just became his new normal. His life moved on and he kept pushing forward.  


He doesn’t really know why he decided to come. Maybe some buried desire to be near him, on this day. 

Shiro finds himself at the grave of Lance Corporal Lance McClain, one year after he had been laid to rest.  


There are fresh flowers laying against the tombstone, probably brought by Veronica earlier that day. Shiro lays his own, a bouquet of lilies, and forget-me-nots, next to the poppies there.  


He glances around before sitting on the ground next to the tombstone. He starts talking softly, not really paying attention to the words he’s saying. He talks about his life over the last year, how he’s gotten a new prosthetic after the old one suffered a malfunction, how he’s finally started going out more and how he probably has Lance to thank for that.  


He talks about life in DC, and how Lance has a memorial plaque in the wall back home. How people still talk about him, and when they mention his name, it’s with awe and respect. How Lance isn’t forgotten, how he’s remembered with pride and reverence for his actions. Would he have wanted that? Shiro can’t really say, but he’d like to think that it at least brings his family some comfort.  


Shiro talks about how he’s stayed in contact with Veronica, primarily through letters. Apparently the families of the Marines Lance saved made contact with her, and with her parents. Veronica writes to him about those lives, their gratitude both soothing and painful. She admits that she sometimes hates those stories, because she wishes that Lance was one of them. That her family could be one of the eternally grateful for someone else’s sacrifice. She doesn’t write that way anymore, but it was rough for her in the beginning. Now the stories soothe more than they hurt, but Shiro can still feel Veronica’s soul-deep sorrow in her writing.  


Shiro talks until his voice is raw and the words run out. He stays seated by the grave for a few more minutes before getting up stiffly. He puts his left hand on the tombstone for just a moment before turning to leave. His feet crunch over dry leaves that litter the ground of the cemetery. He barely notices.  


As he’s walking away, his eye catches on someone walking his way, towards Lance’s grave. The place was empty, except for Shiro and this guy. He’s of average height, with long, dark hair. It falls loosely around his face. From this distance, Shiro can’t really make out his features, but he’s wearing a red leather jacket. In his hands are roses.  


Shiro watches in interest as the stranger walks up to Lance’s tombstone. He doesn’t know this guy, doesn’t remember seeing him. It could just be someone who knows Lance’s story. Shiro is aware that many people would come to pay their respects for a fallen Marine. But Shiro doesn’t think that’s the case here. This stranger’s shoulders are tense, and Shiro can see him quivering with emotion. Somehow, this guy knew Lance.  


Shiro doesn’t have time to react before this stranger is throwing his flowers at the grave, voice pitched so loud that he was yelling. Lance was an idiot, who never put himself first. Why couldn’t he just follow orders for once? Why did he always, always have to be the hero? Why did he have to save the day?  


“It’s been a year, and I haven’t gone a FUCKING day without thinking about you. Why was the only thought you had about them?! Did you think about your family? Your sister? Your friends?? Did you think about ME?” The words became indecipherable as the man breaks, dissolving into gut-wrenching sobs. The stranger hunches over, clutching his sides as if he were about to shatter.  


Shiro isn’t thinking. His feet move before he’s even aware of it. Shiro just knows that he can’t leave now. Shiro can’t be certain, but he’s beginning to guess who this man might have been to Lance. Shiro turns and walks up to him. 

“Hey,” he says, softly. The other man jolts slightly, straightening his posture. “You don’t know me, but my name is Shiro.”

There’s no immediate answer. It’s silent, and a brisque wind shuffles some of the leaves. A few fallen petals from the poppy bouquet are blown away. Then the stranger says, “I know who you are.”

Shiro looks over at him. He isn’t making eye contact. His arms are folded across his chest, and he’s looking down at the flowers. He kneels down to rearrange them so that the flowers he brought are leaning upright against the marble tombstone. He stands, and the two gaze down at Lance together, close enough that Shiro could wrap an arm around the guy’s shoulders.

It’s silent for a long moment. Then,

“I’m Keith.”

The stranger, Keith, looks at Shiro then. Their eyes meet, and Shiro sees tears in his dark eyes. Keith looks away. Around his neck is a chain with dog tags, Lance’s dog tags. Nestled in between them rests a single golden ring. Shiro swallows, a wash of anguish rolling over him. He barely manages to keep his breathing even. 

Shiro considers what to say next. “You knew Lance pretty well?”

Keith laughs, and there’s a bitter tinge to it. “I guess you could say that.”

At that, Shiro finally reaches out and puts a hand, his organic hand, on Keith’s shoulder. Keith meets his gaze again, his jaw tense. But he doesn’t pull away.

“Why don’t you tell me about him.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a really long time since I've written for a fandom. I was having a bad mental day and turned it into this.


End file.
